


See You In Court, Arsehole

by Lynchy8



Series: Fun (and sad!) little drabbles [28]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, PWP, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynchy8/pseuds/Lynchy8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This usually came as a shock to a lot of people, but even Feuilly got his statutory twenty-eight days leave.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Feuilly has a day off, but what do people do when their boyfriends are at work? They torture them with smutty texts of course...</p>
            </blockquote>





	See You In Court, Arsehole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tournesol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tournesol/gifts).



> Full credit to Claire for this, although shame on me because I've lost the original prompt ~~although I know it went along the lines of "please give me Bahorel and Feuilly having rough outdoor sex"~~ so here we go :)
> 
> CW for brief mentions of d/s and associated d/s practice - I didn't want to tag it because this is not a d/s fic, there's just mentions of it having happened in the past. 
> 
> As usual, if anyone would like me to tag anything else please let me know.
> 
> EDIT: turns out I know nothing and have since been reminded of our lengthy conversation about Feuilly having a day off and getting his revenge on Bahorel for all the smutty texts he usually receives throughout the day. It was a great conversation and gave birth to this fic - enjoy!

This usually came as a shock to a lot of people, but even Feuilly got his statutory twenty-eight days leave. It didn’t happen as often as Bahorel might like, but occasionally Feuilly’s boss would tell him that he needed to take some holiday, like, right now before the company got busted for breaking some human rights law or other.

(“’Some human rights law or other’?!” Bahorel had exploded. “Is your boss for real? Does he know what I do for a living or that nearly ALL your friends are solicitors?”)

Unfortunately, on this occasion, it happened right before Bahorel was due to go to Court. For his job, you understand; poor Bahorel usually found himself clarifying that more times than he cared to remember. For some reason people always assumed he was the defendant rather than the defence council. 

He had left Feuilly snoozing in bed, his boyfriend wrapped round his pillow as though daring someone to come steal it from him in his sleep. Bahorel had grabbed his case notes and headed on out, ready for his day.

What no one mentioned about Court was that it was boring. Somehow the TV dramas managed to leave out all the sitting around, drinking tepid coffee from vending machines while each side played mind games through sending messages and making requests. Courts went into recess a lot. Usually after someone finished talking there would be a break so the defence and prosecution could retreat to do whatever it was they needed to do before everything resumed. Sometimes the jurors needed a break. Sometimes the witnesses needed a break; it wasn’t unusual for medical attention to be required for someone getting nauseous and passing out.

This day was no different. Bahorel was just observing as part of his qualification requirements, part of the team supporting Enjolras and so not actually required to stand up and say anything as such, but he needed to pay attention. He took his job seriously because goodness knows it had taken long enough to pass his degree.

The jury had come in and Enjolras was starting with his opening statement after which time, they took a break. This was usually the point that Bahorel would check his phone for any messages from the office, something important or relevant pertaining to the case. But today was different. Today, when he checked his phone at just gone ten o’clock in the morning, he had a message from Feuilly.

_Wish you were fucking me right now._

+

Feuilly was bored. He was so unbelievably, brain-numbingly bored. What on earth did people do with their free time?

Enjolras had said it was a good time to catch up on all those little jobs you didn’t have time for during the week. This would have been a fine idea except that they were mostly up-to-date with chores. They had been making a concerted effort to keep on top of the washing up and there wasn’t enough laundry in the basket to justify a load in the machine. The dripping tap in the bathroom had been fixed last weekend and the annoying clunk in the central heating had been solved by bleeding the radiators a few days ago.

He supposed that he could have gone to a museum or something, and while he didn’t have anything against going to exhibits by himself, it was always more fun with someone else. 

Bahorel usually caught up on his sleep but Feuilly was done with sleeping, He was awake and he was bored. What would he have been doing if Bahorel was here instead of at work? Well that was easy; they’d be fucking each other senseless. 

Now that was a nice train of thought. They’d had a lot of sex in their apartment. Vanilla sex in bed, with Bahorel holding Feuilly’s thighs or hips, stretching him around Bahorel’s cock. They’d fucked on the couch, over the couch; had fucked until they’d fallen off the couch onto the floor. On the coffee table (through the coffee table – Bahorel still had the scar on his arse because fucking on glass coffee tables was a universally bad idea) against the front door, over a kitchen chair, under the kitchen table (they’d learnt their lesson from the coffee table debacle, plus Joly had made them promise he would never have to eat a meal off somewhere where sex had happened). They’d screwed in the shower, of course. Once, they’d fucked in an empty bathtub because they were drunk and it had seemed like a cool idea. In a similar drunken night of weird sex, Bahorel had insisted they fuck inside their own wardrobe though Feuilly still wasn’t sure why, although the logic had seemed sound at the time.

There’d been the less-than-vanilla sex; starting with the obvious handcuffs and vibrating butt plugs, not to mention the thick black collar kept in the bottom drawer of the bedside table for special occasions, along with an even thicker wooden paddle that Feuilly had made himself. When Bahorel had graduated (finally) Feuilly had insisted his boyfriend fuck him while wearing the graduation gown. 

As all these happy memories filtered through his mind, Feuilly’s hand wandered down to grasp his rapidly-filling cock. He groaned, his arse aching a little because he really, _really_ wanted to be fucked right now; just bent over the kitchen counter or the arm of the couch or the end of the bed and just roughly, perfectly fucked. But his hand would have to do.

Getting himself off quickly, head filled with pleasant thoughts, Feuilly decided to share his frustration. Shortly after cleaning himself up, he grabbed his phone to text Bahorel. Because he was nice like that.

+

That bastard.

That complete and utter, total bastard boyfriend; he knew Bahorel was in Court today. With Enjolras, of all people! Enjolras and his “this is very important so I need your complete attention” (patent pending) stare that could freeze the balls off an enraged yak at two hundred yards*. 

*source: Grantaire, who swears he saw it happen once

The point was, Bahorel needed his brain on his case notes to be of help to the rest of the defence council, not back in his bedroom. _Oh shit_.

Feuilly was home alone. He was probably still naked in bed. 

Enjolras called on him then, snapping him back to the moment and away from the image of Feuilly’s back bathed in sunlight as bedsheets clung to his waist. Bahorel stuffed his phone back in his pocket and followed his colleague back into the court room.

+

Feuilly could see that Bahorel had read his text, but not responded to it. He knew from Bahorel’s frequent complaints on the subject that there had probably been a short break. He imagined his boyfriend trying to keep a professional face on, perhaps nodding sagely to give the impression that what he had just read was interesting and pertinent to whatever was happening in the court room that day.

Smutty texts were hardly new ground for them, except that it was usually Bahorel irritating the hell out of Feuilly, texting him all sorts of delicious things while he tried to complete his shift. A somewhat unique situation now presented itself; a chance to exact some revenge.

Grinning to himself, Feuilly sent another text, settling back for day of torturing his boyfriend (in the best possible way of course).

+

By three o’clock that afternoon, Bahorel was in his own personal purgatory. Phones were, of course, prohibited in the court room, however with every break or recess came another series of texts from Feuilly and since lunchtime they had taken a somewhat unexpected turn.

_You know… you’ve never actually fucked me in a court room_

Bahorel had just stared at his screen, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck shoot up.

_All that wooden furniture. Sturdy._

Oh please no; please don’t let Feuilly continue because Bahorel had just been charged with a mission by Enjolras to pop back to the office to pick up a really important box file and then he would be expected to go back into the Court room and pay attention. It would be really useful if he could perform those relatively simple tasks without being hard.

_Think of me on my knees in the jury’s bench sucking you off_

There would be no reason for Bahorel to be on the jury’s bench so that was easily dismissed, even if the thought of Feuilly on his knees was one of his favourite things. But his phone buzzed again.

_Imagine fucking me over the dock_

Nope. Bahorel didn’t want to imagine that at all; Feuilly’s calloused hands gripping the edge of the dock, groaning as Bahorel…

_Or maybe on the Judge’s seat_

Bahorel groaned internally, closing his eyes because he could almost see it; sitting on the judge’s seat with Feuilly on his lap, back to Bahorel’s chest as he raised and lowered himself painfully slowly, fucking himself on Bahorel’s cock. His head would be thrown back to rest against Bahorel’s shoulder, perhaps Bahorel would have a fist in his boyfriend’s hair, all matted with sweat. 

“Bahorel!” 

Enjolras’s sharp voice yanked him out of his pleasant daydream. Opening his eyes he found the man staring at him incredulously, asking him what the hell he was still doing here when there were box files that needed fetching, preferably before Court was done for the day.

Blushing slightly, Bahorel got his arse in gear, turning his phone off in a vain effort to drive all Feuilly’s suggestive sexts out of his mind.

+

Finally the day was over. 

_Finally_ , Bahorel could start packing things up and start to let his mind stray back to his boyfriend. They’d gone into recess for the day; Enjolras was having an important discussion with the prosecution and the judge, and there was a lot of nodding of heads going on.

Bahorel was going to kill Feuilly. Or maybe he’d fuck him first; just throw him up against the nearest flat surface – horizontal or vertical as long as it was flat – and fuck the hell out of him. Maybe when he got through the door, Feuilly would probably be on the sofa watching television and Bahorel could just walk right up to him and throw him over his shoulder in order to cart him off to the bedroom.

Calling out a farewell to Enjolras - who nodded at him and told him to get some sleep before giving him a critical look goodbye – Bahorel headed for the door. He was still plotting, thinking perhaps he wouldn’t bother with the bedroom after all, he’d just fuck Feuilly through the living room carpet, when he spotted the man in question loitering outside the Court house. Bahorel paused to stare at him because how the fuck was he here?

“Umm, Enjolras texted me,” Feuilly grinned, swiping a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Apparently you are ‘behaving in a concerning manner’”.

At that, Bahorel growled, closing the distance between them and grabbing Feuilly by the arm before leading him round to the side of the building, away from prying eyes.

“Well who the fuck’s fault is that?” Bahorel pulled his teasing bastard of a boyfriend into a bruising kiss, before pushing him up against the rough bricks of the Court house. Feuilly tasted of the peppermint gum he liked to snap and Bahorel was aware of rough fingers at his waist.

It was always like this between them; everything was a fight. Hands pushed and pulled as Feuilly arched up into Bahorel, daring him, enticing him as he pressed forward, and covering Feuilly completely. A thigh pressed between Bahorel’s legs, pressing against where he was growing hard while Feuilly moaned.

This was going to be messy, and possibly quick, judging by the way they were both breathing. Bahorel did a quick check for security cameras as he unbuttoned Feuilly’s fly. He spat in his hand before reaching down, curling his fist round his boyfriend’s cock.

“Gonna fuck you so hard when we get home,” he growled, biting down hard along Feuilly’s jawline. 

“Why wait?” Feuilly gasped right hand fumbling at Bahorel’s waist while the left caught his boyfriend’s wrist, directing it down until…

“Holy shit!” Bahorel only just kept his voice down because Feuilly was wet with lube. The man grinned before stepping back, dropping to his knees so he could pull Bahorel’s cock out, taking it into his mouth. Bahorel groaned because _holy fuck_ , Feuilly was wicked with his tongue. Feuilly grinned at the choked-off moans coming from overhead, working hard to ensure his boyfriend’s cock was nice and wet in the absence of any other lubrication. 

“Hurry up, then,” Feuilly challenged, staggering back to his feet “unless you want a fun story about how you got laid, arrested and fired all in one afternoon.”

Bahorel didn’t need telling twice. Wrapping his hands round Feuilly’s thighs, he lifted the man up, enjoying how Feuilly’s lithe legs wrapped around his waist. He let the Court house wall take most of his boyfriend’s weight, rubbing his cock against Feuilly’s hole before starting to press in. They went slowly, as slow as Bahorel could, no matter how much he wanted to just thrust home, let go and fuck Feuilly into next week.

Feuilly looked beautiful like this, eyes closed and neck exposed, almost presented for Bahorel to sink his teeth into. He was gasping slightly, brow furrowed in concentration as he took Bahorel inside him with only spit and what lube remained from where he’d prepped himself before heading out.

Soon they started to move, Feuilly clinging on as Bahorel fucked him thoroughly, the wall rough behind his back and _oh dear fucking god_ this was perfect. Bahorel was panting, breath hot against Feuilly’s throat, and every so often teeth scraped down, marking him and he relished every second.

“Shit… ah, fuck, Feuilly,” Bahorel gasped, snapping his hips, arms killing him but it was so fucking worth it. One of Feuilly’s hands let go from where he was holding tight to Bahorel’s neck, reaching down to jerk himself off in quick thrusts. Meanwhile Bahorel could feel the familiar tell-tale warmth building up in his stomach, edging him ever closer to the edge. He tried to speed up, to fuck hard and deep and, dear sweet heavens above, this was a fucking excellent idea.

When Feuilly came, he keened, trying to keep noise to a minimum, shuddering around where Bahorel was buried deep inside him. Bahorel followed not that long after, gasping quietly as he gently let Feuilly go. The man was shaking, unsteady on his legs, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled up his jeans.

“Now you can say you’ve fucked me up against the Court house wall,” he muttered, voice wrecked and eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Bahorel chuckled gruffly as he dragged Feuilly out of the alleyway before they were spotted. He wouldn’t be telling _anyone_ about this, not if he wanted to keep his job.


End file.
